


I Am Become Death

by Medie



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't reprogram the human heart, Micah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Become Death

**Author's Note:**

> Written from a prompt by [](http://dragonsinger.livejournal.com/profile)[**dragonsinger**](http://dragonsinger.livejournal.com/) for the Advent Drabble meme. Prompt was Molly Walker, "I'll be your number one with a bullet". Urg, let it be said, this is not a happy holiday drabble. I guess, I'm supposed to say sorry?

Molly's at the gallery, presiding over a retrospective when she stops cold. "Oh my god," she says, staring at him in disbelief.

Her assistant turns, looking at Adam Monroe with wide eyes. "_Damn_," she whispers. "Who is that?"

"Believe me, you don't want to know," Molly hands off her clipboard. "Stay here and keep an eye on things. I need to take care of this." She walks away before her assistant has a chance to protest.

She threads her way through the gallery's oblivious patrons, moving toward the patiently waiting man. Adam blends among these people. Dressed in an expensive black coat, he looks like he should be critiquing the paintings on the wall. Not plotting his latest scheme to save all humanity from its own ills.

"Ms. Walker," he says, accent only adding to the air of composure that he's projecting. "You look well."

Molly looks over her shoulder, making sure no one is listening. "So do you, unfortunately. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I needed to speak with you," he says. "And since I don't share your rather singular ability, this seemed the best place to try locating you." Taking hold of her elbow, Adam draws Molly away from the crowd. She considers fighting him, but rejects the idea as quickly as it occurs. The very last thing she wants to do is draw a roomful of innocent people into a war they know nothing about. Adam has always had a talent for persuading naive young people with powers to his side. She really doesn't want to know which one of the gallery's patrons is waiting for a cue from Adam to rip the place apart.

"Whatever it is you want to say," she says coldly, "I don't want to hear it."

"Oh, I think you do," Adam says. "Whatever my methods, my intentions were always honorable."

She snorts. "Yes, total genocide is _really_ honorable. Come on, Adam, pull the other one. Maybe I should call Peter, see what he thinks of it all? Maybe Nathan Petrelli?"

Adam grimaces. "I'd rather not, thank you." In the protection of an alcove, he presses a hand against the stuccoed wall and ducks his head. "I've made my share of mistakes in my life, Ms. Walker, believe me I'm well aware of them."

"If this is going to be another 'but you mortals make the same ones over and over, war, death, and pestilence' speech, I'm really not in the mood to hear that either."

"Very well," Adam says. "But would you be interested in hearing some rather unpleasant news about a former partner of yours?"

She stills, something in his voice scaring her. "Who?"

"Micah." Adam looks frustrated. "It would seem that your young friend is determined to make the same mistakes that I did."

A cold knot forms in the pit of Molly's stomach. "What are you talking about?" she asks.

He smiles, but it isn't happy. "I was incarcerated at the time, but I'm sure you remember the fuss at the turn of the millennium? Everyone absolutely convinced that some computer programmer's mistake was going to bring about a technological apocalypse?"

Molly looks at him. "Not really, Adam. I was like _three_."

With a sigh, Adam shakes his head. "It's so difficult to keep track of that. Ask your fathers, I'm sure Matthew has more than a few stories on the matter. In the meantime, allow me to paint a picture for you. Though, in deference to the masters who surround us, I'll make it one of words. Your dear Micah has always wanted to be a hero, yes?"

Molly nods. "Yes." Of all of them, even more so than Peter, Micah's always insisted they do something _important_ with their abilities. That people were out there who needed their help. During their relationship, Molly had nearly worked herself into exhaustion using her abilities to find missing children and adults. "So?"

"It's never gone particularly well for him, has it," Adam says. It's not a question, but Molly nods again. For all Micah's good intentions, his determination toward heroism has always found some way to end badly. "I'm afraid all of that trauma and loss has had a rather unfortunate affect."

Molly's breath catches. "He's -- "

"Yes." Adam nods. "Being that I understand his mentality, I'm afraid I am the last person who should try and stop him. The sheer hypocrisy alone would render my opinion impotent. You, however, dear Molly, are likely the one person on this planet to whom he will still listen."

"Where is he?" she asks, then grimaces. "Nevermind." She closes her eyes, concentrating on the connection that still lingers between herself and Micah. Almost instantly she feels that tugging sensation, the pulling that yanks her consciousness across the miles to center on Micah's location.

She feels the sensation of a keyboard beneath her hands and opens her eyes. Of course he would do it there. "We need to hurry," she says. "He's almost ready."

"I suspected as much," Adam says. Keys jingle in his hand. "Let me take you there," he says. "You can't drive and monitor his location at the same time."

"Why are you doing this?" she asks, following him out of the gallery.

"I owe a debt," Adam says, his voice sorrowful. "For all my intentions, I allowed myself to become no better than the rest of --" he stops, but Molly hears the 'you' hanging in the air. "All of my plans have come to naught, Molly, and for once I think I would like to a reminder of what it feels like to save the world."

-

"Micah."

"Don't, Mol," he says, not looking up. "I have to do this."

Shivering, Molly draws her coat tighter. It's been years since she was in this building, but she remembers it well. When she looks at the microscope on the table beside her, she can almost see Mohinder peering through it. "No, Micah, you don't. You _want_ to do this."

"No!" he snaps. "I don't! I don't have a choice. Nothing else works. We've tried _everything_ to help them and nothing changes! Over and over again. People keep dying -- "

"And what do you think they're going to do when you do this?" Molly asks. "How is crashing every computer on the planet going to change anything, Micah? All you're going to do is make it worse."

"They won't be able to hurt anyone, not anymore," Micah says, his voice resolute. There's an edge on the words that scares her. He's talked like this before, but he's never sounded so _calm_. "No more bombs, they won't be able to launch them. All their military systems will fail. They're too dependent on computers, Molly. Without them, they won't be able to kill anyone again!"

"Not the government, maybe," Molly says. "But it won't change the human race, Micah. They'll use guns, knives, and their bare hands if they have to. You can't reprogram the human heart, Micah."

"I can try," Micah says.

"And in the meantime, what about all the people that are going to die _because_ of you? What about all the transplant patients who won't get organs because the lists they were on no longer exist? Or the people on life support? Are you going to take over for the computers running their machines? And the prisons, how are you going to tell the pedophiles from the guy locked up for tax evasion? All their records are on computer. The hard copies are stored away, just in case, but that will take time. Time we won't have." Molly takes a step closer. "I know what you're trying to do, Micah," she says. "Believe me, I understand it. So does Adam." She laughs sadly. "We _all_ understand it, but it won't change anything."

"It will give us a chance to start over," Micah says. Not for the first time, Molly wishes his parents hadn't been quite so damn stubborn. "It'll be hard for a while, yes, but it'll change. We can make it change, Molly. We've got the power to do so."

Molly smiles. "Not you, Micah. Without any computers, you'll be powerless. We'll have to clean up _your_ mess while you sit on the sidelines and  
twiddle your thumbs. Such a grand accomplishment, huh?" Taking another step closer, she feels the weight of the gun in her pocket and prays she doesn't have to use it. "Please, Micah, give them another chance."

"And if I don't?" Micah asks, looking at her finally.

"Please," she pleads. "Don't."

He turns back to the computer and presses a hand against it. "I have to."

"_Micah_," she begs, taking the gun out. "I don't want to do this."

"And I don't want to do this," Micah says. "But I don't have a choice. Do what you have to do, Molly, and so will I."

Molly raises the gun. "I'm sorry."

He looks at her. "So am I."


End file.
